The animals wanted to die and by eating them I gave them a way out of their pain and suffering. I thought maybe they were sleeping and the dead were peaceful and silent. I wholeheartedly believed in this illusion until one day, after turning on the television, I saw a completely new whole at hand. Pure white feathers, as white as a new blanket of snow covered in bright red, almost electric blood staining the ground below. It was my lunch, and dinner was at the slaughterhouse, waiting her turn without even knowing where she was going or how it was going to end. Turkeys with broken necks, still breathing, watching, waiting for the hope of a savior, a rotating saw that would finish the job. It was my Thanksgiving, my Christmas, my Saturday, my week, my life. My life that I was living, I was nothing but an accessory to murder. In ninety minutes, my world had gone from a crystal chandelier to a foggy windshield on a rainy day. I can never forget what I witnessed that day. In fact, I still have nightmares and visions of what I saw. I know now that meat is a sacrifice that only they know. Every life has meaning, whether it's one day becoming the leader of the free world or eating, becoming so fat you can break your legs, get systematically killed and feed a family. The greatest cliché ever uttered goes along the lines of “It’s the wheel of life that keeps turning.” The faster we move